


Control

by Tickette



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of Power, Abused Dean, Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Domestic Violence, M/M, Mary Lives, Mean Sam, Sam Has Powers, Sibling Abuse, Stuttering Dean, Teen!Dean, Underage Rape/Non-con, abuser sam, teen!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tickette/pseuds/Tickette
Summary: Dean is stuck trying to keep the family together, keeping his parents safe and his brother happy.  Sam just wants to spend time with his brother and not be left behind.





	1. Control, Brothers, Failure

**Author's Note:**

> This is a violent idea of what would have happened if Sam had his powers and used them to get what he wanted. Things get violent and graphic. You have been warned.

Part 1, Control

June 23, 1999 -- Wednesday

Dean’s arms were on fire and, despite his control, his hands were shaking. ‘No,’ his mind begged his body to hold steady as he felt the water moisten his fingers. He had been still for almost an hour, his shoulders and back were cramping and he could not feel his legs below the knees. ‘Just a few more minutes,’ willing himself to finish, he dared a furtive glance at the clock with his eyes. He could not make out the time but he knew it was not near close enough. 'Damn it,' he thought helplessly.

Dean heard the footsteps that signaled that this was to end. He had failed, however, he did not put down water glasses, he held his arms out as steady as he could and waited. The water from the glasses traveled down his trembling arms and was dripping off his elbows providing the evidence of his failure. ‘I can never make it,’ thought Dean hearing the door open. He flinched when Sam stepped in front of him, making the water spill more.

“You are a bad boy, Dean, such a loser, you spilt the water again. Can’t you do anything right?”

Sam sighed at his older brother struggling to keep his arms up. He marveled at the focus Dean had, his ability to stay as steady as he did.

“You broke the rules, you know what that means,” Sam’s voice held the promise of more pain. “Recite,” he ordered trailing his fingers across Dean’s bare chest smearing the beads of sweat.

“R-rrule N-numb-ber one, D-do n-not ssp-pill the w-wat-ter. R-rrule N-numb-ber t-two, D-do n-not-t m-move. R-rrule N-numb-ber th-three, D-do n-not-t sp-peak-k,” Dean was panting with effort, his fear broadcasting with every syllable. His stutter was more pronounced around Sam though he tried his best to control it. It was a weakness his younger brother took advantage of at every turn.

“You broke rule number one, spilling the water and in order for you to do that you broke rule number two, you moved. That is very bad Dean, very bad indeed. But then again, when have you ever not broken the rules.”

Sam was toying with Dean making him wait to be released, all part of the game.

“You know rules are in place for a reason and are not to be broken whenever you take a notion. When will you ever learn? You know what I have to do now,” Sam reprimanded fondling Dean’s nipples, “I have to punish you for not fulfilling your obligation and for breaking the rules.”

He had that ‘put upon’ tone that scared Dean further as he tried to block out the touches. Sam took the glasses from Dean’s outstretched hands but he did not let him lower his arms. Taking a sip he smiled when Dean unconsciously licked his lips needing a drink.

“Go to your room,” Sam dismissed him with a toss of his head.

Sam leaned against the door frame drinking the water and watched as his twenty year old brother unfolded himself from the position that was required for this exercise and pick up the broom he had been kneeling on. Sam smile widened as he heard the pain filled sounds coming from Dean as he moved, his aching muscles protesting. There was something quite sexual in the pants and moans that Dean was making and they were going straight to Sam’s groin. His eyes followed his brother making his slow limping progress up the stairs.

Dean wanted to run away, hide, something other than be here. ‘If I could just leave, be free,’ it was a hope that died the first and only time he tried that. He was thirteen then and had gotten as far as the bus station across town when Sam walked up to him.

“You are a bad boy, Dean,” no nine year old should sound like that, “you know you cannot leave the family, leave me.” Sam’s eyes were dark and foreboding, “I told you I would find you no matter where you go.”

The punishment Dean endured left no room for doubt of Sam's powers nor his determination to keep Dean under his control. Also, Sam promised that next time he would include their parents.

"As you know, the children's actions are a reflection of the parents and you are saying that our parents are bad. Running away Dean, what were you thinking? Do you want child services to be called in? Why do you hate them so much?"

Dean cringed at the memory, wishing he had gotten away, but knowing that his mom and dad would have had to live with whatever retribution Sam would have inflicted on them. So he stood in the corner of his room, waiting for Sam, willing the world to open up and swallow him whole.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2, Brothers

July 18, 1988 - March 30, 1997

They had been normal brothers once, Dean and Sammy having the typical brother relationship.  Then one day five year old Sammy had enough of being left behind while nine year old Dean went to play with his friends.  

“Dean, I want to play with you,” Sammy exclaimed then exerted his distaste by pushing Dean down with a thought.  Both were shocked by what had happened, although Sammy had been using his mind to get things for years, a nudge here, a suggestion there.  

After that Sammy practiced every day to perfect his gift, learning that he could plant thoughts in people’s minds, move things just by thinking, and know where people were at any time if he concentrated enough.  Sam thrilled at the power as it grew stronger year by year.  He felt as if he could do anything, except he could not get Dean to cooperate.

Dean did nothing at first, frightened at what Sammy could do yet concerned, too.   _‘He’s my brother, I have to be there for him.  Help him figure this out.’_  He tried his best to act normal around Sammy until he younger brother realized that he could not control him like he could others.  By the time Dean was ten and Sam was six, their normal sibling rivalry had turned into something darker.  

“Please Sammy, don’t do this.  I’m your brother.”  Year by year Dean grew more fearful of his younger brother.  

“It’s Sam now, and Dean, I have to.  I have power and you don’t.  You have to do what I say.”

Sam subjected Dean to tests to see how much control he had over his older brother.  The easiest was to make Dean trip or drop things which soon lead to total movement control.  Dean’s parents thought he was the clumsiest, most accident prone child ever.  The hardest was finding him, Sam had to concentrate hard.  Dean would hide from Sam every chance he got making Sam get a headache concentrating on Dean’s location, which would make things worse for Dean.  But the thing that stole his thunder was the fact that he could not make Dean think what he wanted him to think.  Dean never took any of the mental suggestions Sam attempted to plant in his brain and resisted him at every turn.

Manipulation was easy with their parents, they took Sam's mental suggestions as their own.  Teachers, classmates, and friends were a bit harder and took longer but it still worked.  However, not with Dean, no matter how hard Sam tried.  So as an alternative Sam targeted their parents as a way to get to his older brother.  There was more than one way to exert mental control.

The first time Sam noticed the effect it had on Dean had been an accident.  They were sitting doing their homework at the kitchen table while their mother cut up vegetables for soup.  Mary liked to have the boys in the kitchen with her so she could answer questions and proof their work.  Sam had just convinced her that he was done via a thought although he was bullying Dean to do his for him when at a heated point in the discussion their mother slipped and cut her hand.  Dean looked wide eyed at Sam wondering and Sam knew he just found his trump card.  Sitting smugly with his arms crossed Sam took responsibility for his mother’s butter fingers.  From that point on all Sam had to do was suggest something untoward would happen and Dean complied to his wishes.  Sam thus held sway over Dean via their parent’s lives and would remind Dean of that fact by examples.  Nothing he did was major, a burn here, a cut there, all seeming accidental, though examples nonetheless.  

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Part 3, Failure

June 23, 1999 -- Wednesday

Sam smiled again when he saw that Dean was standing with his head down in the corner of his room waiting.  At the sight of Dean’s well toned back, the way it tapered to his waist then ending at the perfectly formed ass filling his jeans made Sam’s dick twitch.  He so wanted to rip them off and fuck him right there, but first things first, punishment.  Walking up behind him, Sam placed his hand on Dean's back.  Smiling at the flinch, Sam leaned down close to Dean’s ear, at sixteen Sam was taller than his older brother by three inches, and spoke in a near whisper.

"You have been a bad boy, Dean."  

He slid his hand down his older brother's back tracing the scars that crisscrossed his brother’s skin, watching for the shiver of fear that his touch elicited.  When it came he halted his hand just above the waistband of the jeans.  Pulling on the back belt loop to mimic the order.

“Dean, remove your jeans and kneel by the bed,” Sam commanded as he moved back and took out his pocket knife.  

Dean knew what was coming but hoped this time he was wrong.  Turning to comply and shaking like a leaf he saw the knife, _‘cutting, please no.’_  Kneeling, Dean was trapped staring at the blade, unconsciously fingering the scars on the inside of his left forearm from the last time.  He flinched when Sam spoke again.

“Since you are such a failure, you are to permanently place that word on you.  I think at the waistband,” Sam’s fingers glided down Dean’s abs to the indicated spot, lingering just inside the waistband of Dean's boxer briefs.  Sam handed his older brother the knife with no fear that Dean would harm him.  

“Position it so that you can read the word every time you jerk off.  And keep it straight and neat,  I would hate to have to redo it.”

Sam was nearly giddy with anticipation.  He watched as his older brother fold down the waistband to expose the flesh, re-grip the knife, and start.  Sam’s impatience won out after Dean had cut in the letter F, he pinned him to the floor, straddled his waist, and did it himself while Dean screamed in pain.  With a practiced hand he expertly finished the cuts deep enough to scar but not enough to have to need stitches.  

Getting up Sam dropped the knife and said in an off handed manner, “Mom and Dad called earlier.  They went to Aunt Rita’s and will be staying the weekend, so you are in charge.”  Sam laughed at the irony of the last part of the statement, “So get cleaned up and get me supper.”

\------------------------------------------------

 


	2. Suppertime, Escape Plans, Counting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gains more control and power and lords it over his big brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get very explicit and graphic. This is very dark. If you want to continue reading, please note the date changes between the parts.

Part 4, Suppertime

June 23, 1999 -- Wednesday

The macaroni and cheese was left cooling on the stove along with the broccoli in butter sauce and baked beans. Supper was forgotten in order for Sam to feed a more carnal appetite.

Despite the fact that he just finished jerking off in his room before coming downstairs, Sam could not deny it, the urge to fuck Dean was strong. The thought still raced through his head and went straight to his dick when he saw Dean cooking his meal. Standing in the doorway, Sam watched as his older brother moved carefully around the room. 'I bet those cuts smart a bit,' he mused then stopped Dean when he approached the table with a plate, a glass, and silverware.

Unable to move Dean stood helpless watching his younger brother walk over to him. 'Shit, no... please, not tonight,' his mind raced but there could only be one reason Sam saw fit to still him with his mind.

Sam took the dishes from Dean's unresponsive hands, placed them on the counter behind him then removed Dean's shirt. He saw fear in those green eyes and smiled, this got him even more horny. He decided to toy with him a bit.

"Dean," Sam breathed into his brother's right ear nibbling the lobe, "you have been a bad boy." Laughing softly at the whimper that escaped those full pouty lips, Sam feathered his hands over Dean's now naked torso, stroking his nipples. Feeling them respond he continued, "You might need to be punished again," he licked the quivering cheek tasting the salty skin, ghosted his lips on Dean's, then moved to the other ear, whispering, "You really have not done anything to deserve to be pleasured by me, though."

"Pl’s d-don't," Dean whispered, immediately wishing he had not said anything. If Sam were to take that as defiance then it would be worse. Trembling slightly at the thought and at what Sam was about to make him do, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling Sam move, he opened them again, remembering Sam did not like it when Dean did not look at him; he did not want Dean to hide from him in any way.

Placing his hands on Dean's shoulders Sam pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"Tsk, tsk, Dean, are you telling me what to do?" Sam teased knowing full well his older brother spoke out of fear. He roamed his hands over Dean's chest then down to his abs and up his sides.

"N-nno-o, I um um dd-ddi'nn’t mm- um mee-eean-nn," Dean gasped, his eyes wide, "it-t'ss-s...um I-I um ah m-me-me ah mean-n s-ssu- sup-p-p'r-r'ss rea- um ah rea- ready." He was sweating, both fearful and nervous. 'please don't do this, please stop,' his eyes begged as he tried to ignore the touches.

"What was that Dean? I did not quite understand you," Sam tilted his head in mock confusion, smiling broadly at the struggle he seen in his brother's eyes. He unbuttoned Dean's jeans then slowly unzipped them.

"I-I'mm um um s-sor- sor- sry, S-sa--saa-- Sam." Dean enunciating the best he could while blinking hard, trying not to be distracted, "I me--me--meant um um to-to s-ss-say ss-- sup-sup-sup’r'ss um ah rred- red-- read-ddy." He would have indicated the food on the stove but Sam had his arms stilled at his sides. Dean also wanted to shove his brother away, make him stop touching, make him leave him alone.

"Dean, you are so pathetic. Can you not get that sweet mouth of yours to work like right? But I guess your mouth was not made for words," Sam bought his hand to Dean's mouth and slid in two fingers making Dean suck them. When they were nice and wet he pulled them out, reached into Dean's jeans, wrapped them around his limp dick, and started to stroke. Sam leaned into kiss Dean on his unwilling mouth. He felt resistance at first before his big brother opened his mouth in defeat, participating.

Tears filled Dean’s eyes as he kissed Sam. Dean was humiliated and sickened when he felt his dick respond to Sam's hand. 'damn it, why does it have to... because this is all you are good for,' Dean thought bitterly hoping that if he did not resist it would be over with faster. He was shoved to his knees and tried not to look when Sam pulled his long hard dick out of his pants. 'no, i don't want to...' He was guided to Sam's throbbing dick which he took into his mouth and prayed that this would be over soon.

"This is what your mouth was made for," Sam cooed, enjoying the hot slick mouth wrapped around him. He had his fingers laced through Dean's hair stilling his head while Sam fucked his mouth. It felt so good, the power, the control, but he wanted more. Pulling out, yanked Dean up and bent him over the table.

Dean had distanced himself from the activity, concentrating on other things, like breathing. When Sam did this he had no regard to what was happening to Dean. 'i could choke for all he cares.' He felt himself lifted up then was spun around, bent over the table, and his jeans pushed down. Pinned to the tabletop he waited. Dean gasped in pain when Sam thrust into him and start to pump. Soon he could feel blood trickle down his thighs from his ass because Sam was rough and from the fresh cuts just below his abs. "FAILURE" was bleeding again because of the table rubbing against the fresh wound. ‘Just finish,’ Dean’s mind begged as he was rocked against the hard table knowing he would have bruises, but that was nothing new. The tears slid from his eyes onto the table when he screamed, Sam had found a particularly tender spot and was brutalizing it.

Sam had learned that if he shifted his angle he could find the most sensitive areas that caused Dean the most pain. Fresh agony was introduced, Sam took to biting Dean’s back, some hard enough to draw blood, from one shoulder to the other. By the time Dean was reduced to incoherent grunts and whimpers, Sam came moaning in delight. He pulled out and wiped himself off on Dean’s discarded t-shirt.

“You are so tight tonight jerk,” he kissed the back of Dean’s neck listening to him cry. Dean did not want to cry, not wanting to give Sam the satisfaction, but it hurt too damned much.

“I’m going to take a shower,” said Sam leaving Dean pinned to the table. He wanted Dean to remember who was in charge and that Sam could do anything he wanted. And the fact he might just want that piece of ass again, never can tell. He loved the dominance he had over his older brother, it got him horny every time he thought of it. Sam smiled, remembering the first time he took Dean, last year when Sam was having to punish him for breaking the rules, again.

\------------------------------------------------  
Part 5, Escape Plans

July 29, 1998 -- Wednesday

Dean sat at his desk in his room staring out the window at his neighbours across the street. Six year old Emily was trying her best to keep her two year old little sister entertained in the front yard while their mother unloaded groceries from the back of the van. Dean smiled as Carrie got away from her big sister hitting the huge mud puddle at full speed. Emily was yelling at Carrie but he could tell that it was all good natured when she jumped into the water.

Turning back to the task at hand, Dean looked at the paperwork for the three colleges he had picked out. He had procrastinated all summer though he had the forms filled out he still needed references and essays. Dean should have been paying less attention to the world outside and more to his world inside because he did not hear his younger brother come into his room.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked in a sing-songy voice. He enjoyed the jump he caused his inattentive brother. Dean spun around to face him, eyes wide, breath quickening. Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, a condescending smile on his face.

"I was fillin' out c-college ap-ap-app-llication f-forms," Dean stuttered, he had started to sweat like he had been caught doing something wrong. He smoothed his facial features and clasped his hands together hoping that Sam would not see them shaking.

Still in that sing-songy voice Sam inquired, "Why would you be doing that, Dean?" his head tilted to the right, eyebrows raised. He was playing Dean, making him squirm.

Dean swallowed trying to steady himself, but his mouth was dry causing his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. He hated talking especially around Sam, he always made it hard for Dean to concentrate.

"I h-hh-have to-to um ap-ap-apply to-to see which one to-to um go to-to."

Dean was struggling with the words. He could see from the look on his brother's face that he was going to get punished although he did not know what he did wrong this time. Sam had taken to punishing him more frequently in the past year.

"Oh, I don't think so Dean," Sam's voice was low, all mirth was wiped from his features. He dropped his hand from Dean's shoulder and picked up the applications. Sam flipped through the forms reading aloud the names.

“Northwestern, MIT, Stanford... hmm, all out of state." Sam knitted his brows and held his older brother in a hard stare. "You can’t go to any of these schools, you will be too far away. Are you trying to leave the family? Are you trying to get away from me?"

"No-no Sam-m," Dean answered quickly, his eyes wide in fright again, "I’m no-no-not lev'n-n' the fam-fam-um um fam’ly." He was visibly shaking now, his stutter worse under Sam's scrutiny.

"But you are applying for colleges not in Kansas, now what else would that be telling me? Hmm, Dean?" Sam pushed making Dean speak more.

"I’m ju-ju-just go-go to-to c-cc-c um um coll-llege li-li-like M-mm-m-oo-o-m-m and Da-da-dad um um wa-wa-want," Dean was almost pleading, he knew the direction this conversation was going but was powerless to stop it.

"No, Dean, they do not want that. In fact they know that you barely passed your equivalency to get your GED, so they know you do not have the brains for college. These," Sam said with distaste indicating the papers, "are worthless." He dropped them one by one onto the floor.

Tears sprung to his eyes as Dean watched helplessly the plans for his escape hit the floor and turn to dust. He knew that Sam planted the information in their parents' minds because that is what Sam does best. And even though their parents attended the ceremony, they would not remember that Dean had graduated with honors this past May and was awarded two scholarships. If Dean were to look now he would find all of his grades changed, the diploma now a GED, and the scholarships gone.

"Wh- why?" he breathed unable to do anything else, staring at the useless applications on the floor.

Sam slammed Dean up against the desk, leaning heavily on his chest. "Because I say so that's why. You have no right to question me, I hold all the cards, I am the one who says what you do and when you do it," Sam's eyes were flashing with hate as he spit out the words. "Fuck Dean, you have been trying to get away from me from the very beginning. Always running off with your friends, leaving me behind. You have never wanted to be around me. You don't love me."

"N-n--" Dean attempted to protest but his air was being constricted, the desk biting into his back. Plus Sam would not give him the time to get the words out.

"Don't you contradict me, damn it! I see it in your fucking eyes every damn day," Sam pulled back letting Dean breathe again. He jabbed Dean in the shoulder to emphasize each statement, "If you would let me in, I could see the truth. But no! You are blocking me, damn it! Shit, the only reason you are here is because I make you stay. And you know what?" malice colored his words, "I don't care. You are mine to do with what I please." Sam straightened and crossed his arms.

"N-no Sa-sa- um um um Samm-m," Dean panted to get the words out, cringing as far from Sam as he could in the chair, "I l--"

"You are a bad boy, Dean," Sam cut him off, voice hard, brows furrowed, "You've broken the rules."

Everything Dean had endured over the years had been increasingly harsh and humiliating but he could deal with a bit of physical and emotional pain knowing that his parents were safe and one day he would be shed of his younger brother when he left for college. Ten years of punishments causing ten years of pain leading to ten years of planning resulting in ten years of hope. In the course of five minutes Sam had taken all that away with the destruction of his academic career. Dean was still trapped.

\------------------------------------------------  
Part 6, Counting

July 29, 1998 -- Wednesday

"You are a bad boy, Dean, for your punishment you are to get ten lashes. Count them out clearly and for each one you miss I will add five more," Sam told Dean knowing he could not keep up with his stutter. Sam had Dean strip naked and stand with his hands on the bedroom wall while he whipped him with one of their Dad’s thick leather belts.

Slap, scream, stutter.

"O-one!"

Sam had gotten up to eight when he noticed how well formed his brother was. He wondered, ‘Shit, when did Dean get so...?’ he frowned at his train of thought but he could not deny that Dean was muscular and toned. By the time Sam struck the thirteenth lash, Dean missed five, seven, and eleven, Sam was nearly vibrating with power and getting harder with every swing, ‘Why is he doing this to me?’ Dean was sagging against the wall struggling to stand. Noting the weak and vulnerable state his older brother was in he knew it had to be the control. Here he was fifteen years old and he commanded all that his nineteen year old brother did everyday. He felt the sexual exhilaration that dominance often brings. Almost every time for the past year Sam had to jerk off after he punished Dean.

"Count them all," Sam ordered trying to focus on the task at hand, though Dean barely heard him.

Slap, scream, stutter.

"F-for-r um tt-tee-nn," Dean breathed, huffing to get air and steady his voice.

Slap, scream, stutter.

"F-ff-iff--" Dean whispered then screamed again, feeling the next lash before he had the last count out. He tried but knew five more had been added. "S-ssi-ss'tt-tee."

"Enunciate!" Sam yelled, "don’t make me do this again." However, Sam could not do it again, his arm was tired and his shoulder was burning, but the biggest obstacle was his huge erection that had grown with every scream and stuttered word.

Slap, scream, stutter.

"S-ss-ebb-nn um um t-ttee," Dean was going to collapse if it did not end soon, which would lead to yet another punishment he knew he could not endure. "Ay t-ttee," he hissed against the wall struggling to steady himself, "n-ni- ni- t-ttee," he gasped just saying the numbers not realizing that Sam had stopped.

Sam was not listening when Dean huffed out "t-t-tw’n-ny," because he was lost, staring at the blood that trailed down Dean’s back, over that well formed ass, sliding down his legs. Sam knew he had more to go, somewhere around thirty, but forgot to add them up opting to undo his jeans. Pulling his throbbing dick out he started to stroke himself, then without conscience thought he grabbed Dean’s falling body and dragged him onto the bed, dropping him face first on the mattress. Sam smeared his hands in Dean's blood and stroked himself until he was slick.

Dean felt himself start to fall and struggled to keep upright when suddenly he was on the bed. Bewildered, he lay there reveling in the sudden reprieve. It was short lived though because he felt Sam get on top of him and rub his hands on Dean's cut back causing him to hiss in pain.

'Why don't you rub in salt, too?' he thought bitterly squeezing his eyes shut, until he felt Sam spread his legs. Dean's eyes went wide in horror.

"S-ss-tt-opp-p! No-no-nnnoo!" he protested then screamed as Sam rammed inside him and move with brutal force. New agony ripped through Dean, physically and mentally, and would not let up. His voice was already raw and ragged from screaming and counting yet he could not help it, he screamed some more.

'He's not! He can't! No this is wrong!'

"D-dd-onn’! P-pp'ea-sss," Dean begged trying to get away, twisting and turning but Sam was too strong. Sam was holding him down on the mattress and hitting him to stop his struggles. As suddenly as it started it ended with Sam moaning his orgasm and Dean sobbing in more pain than he thought possible.

"I told you jerk, you are mine to do with as I please." Getting off the bed, Sam zipped up and breathed in a ragged breath. Standing above Dean, Sam laughed triumphantly as Dean cried curling up into a fetal position. With a departing slap to Dean's ass, Sam left.

When he could think straight, Dean put a name to his attack, 'rape,' and wished he had not. He crawled off the bed to his bathroom and into the shower. After scrubbing his skin red, Dean sat under the once hot, now cold spray shaking with fear. He still felt Sam's hands holding him down, no matter how hard he rubbed, the sensation would not go away. He could not distance himself from the humiliation like he could with previous punishments.

'He raped me. I'm his brother and he raped me.'  
Unable to comprehend his brother's actions, shock and disbelief enveloped him as the words kept flowing through his head. Dean had always feared Sam's punishments but not Sam himself, until now.

'RAPE!' shrieked at him from all directions, he could not get away from the attack. Dean still felt Sam inside him, pumping him over and over again. This haunted him, confused him, wounded him in a way Sam had not been able to do before. His brother's words hammered at him.

‘You are mine.'

Sam was now in his head and Dean could not get him out. He had been violated in body, mind, and soul.

\------------------------------------------------


	3. Begging, Reaching Out, Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean begs his brother for mercy. Dean calls for help. Sam celebrates Dean's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is dark and graphic. Please take note. Oh, and I should have mentioned this before, but this was posted in fanfiction. net a while ago under a different name, still mine. I have cleaned it up quite a bit and hopefully it is easier to read.

Part 7, Begging

June 23, 1999 -- Wednesday

Refreshed from his shower, Sam went to the kitchen to get something to eat. He trailed his fingers along Dean’s back as he walked by, thrilling in his older brother’s cringe and sob. Sam was looking at what was on the stove when he heard Dean beg. 

“Pl-plea-sse l-lle' me-me uf-f Sa-sa- sam-m,” his voice barely recognizable from his ragged breath. 

Sam turned his head from the stove. He laughed, "What was that, Dean? I didn’t understand you."

“Pl-pp'eess Sa-sa-sa-aam,” his pleading could not get more pathetic but Dean did not care, plus he knew Sam enjoyed it and if he played into that, Sam might just let him up. 

“Why would I do that, Dean?” Sam guessed the reason but he asked anyway. 

“I um ha-hha'fa'g-go t'da' um um ba-bba'r-rrmm,” Dean was slurring his words whimpering in pain, resting his forehead on the tabletop attempting to focus. Dean knew Sam was being mean, Sam was always mean, he knew he should not have asked but he had to go and did not want to risk Sam’s wrath if he urinated in the kitchen. He could not shift not even a fraction to relieve the pressure on his bladder. He needed to pee, wanted to get cleaned up, and desperately wished he could just disappear.

Sam leaned against the counter and considered leaving Dean there all night, but thought better of it. Sam crossed the space between them and placed his hand on Dean’s back, again feeling the taut muscles and jagged scars. Sam leaned down to whisper into his brother's ear.

“You are such a pussy, Dean. Hold it.” No need in letting him up too soon. 'Just how much control do you have big brother?'

Dean sobbed at the words and the touches. He thought after the many times he had been "treated" to Sam's needs, wants, and desires that he would get used to it, Sam's hands on him, but he could not. He could deal with the hits, slaps, punches, kicks but every intimate touch sent burning humiliation through him he could not shed. Sam let Dean have no personal space and demonstrated it every chance he got. 

'You are mine to do with what I please.'

An hour later, Sam had eaten and was watching TV, Dean was released. It was subtle, just a hint of relief from the pressure that was holding him down. Dean had been so focused on other things that he almost did not realize it, but when he did he wanted to move. At first he tried to stand but his body would not respond to his commands. He slid off the table, falling into an ungraceful heap on the floor with a long moan of pain he barely contained. His legs and back were cramping, his arms numb, and his bladder close to bursting. The sudden movement and being unable to hold it any longer caused him to let go in a painful stream. Dean had been holding his pee for so long that when he was done he still did not feel relief. Now having no urgent need to move Dean lay there in the puddle, tangled in his jeans bunched at his ankles, attempting to push away the pain. However, he did need to move, he could not have Sam finding that in the kitchen, Dean could not face another punishment tonight. So flexing one limb then another Dean slowly pulled his jeans up over his bloody legs and ass and moved to get something to clean up the mess he had made. After what seemed like an eternity of cleaning not only the floor but the dishes as well, then a mile of stairs, Dean made it to his bathroom. 

Careful inspection revealed that 'FAILURE' was no worse for the table treatment, he had the bleeding stopped within a couple of minutes, though he did use some superglue to close up the more deeper cuts on the 'I', 'L', and 'R'. His ass had stopped bleeding before he was released so all he had to do was clean off the dried blood and semen, apply some antibiotic ointment, and then get dressed. Dean did all this clinically, robotically, but when he was finished he was shaking so bad he had to sit down on the floor to steady himself. 

'I can't do this anymore, I can't...'

\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
Part 8, Reaching out

September 24, 1999 -- Friday

"Friends for Life Help Center, this is Annie, you can talk to me," Annie answered the phone.

"Hel-hel-lo?" came a tentative reply.

"Hello, I am Annie, what's your name," she said in her nicest voice, she did not know if the caller was male or female, but she wanted to appear friendly.

"I um do-do-n'na th-thi-nk I um um ha-ha-d-d to-to um gi-give my my um na-name," the halting male voice spoke softly, "I I um th-thought-t it um um wa-was con-con-ff-fi-d-dential?" 

"You don't have to give your name, honey, and you're right the phone call is confidential," Annie was mentally kicking herself for the slip up. She had only been at this job for a week and this was just her third real call. 

"I do have tell you that we can not give out any information on anyone who calls, so if you are looking for someone, I cannot help you," She knew that there had been an increasing number of men who had been calling in for help, but she did not want to be duped into giving anything away.

"No-no, I um um th-tha-that's n-not um..." the voice said immediately but then faltered. "I ha-have a um um fr-frien-nd who I um um th-thin-k is-is be-bein' um a-abus-s'd. He w-w-on' ad-ad-mi' it um b-but I thin-think his-s um br-broth'r b-beats-s him," he finished in a rush.

"How do you know this? Has he said anything?" Annie glanced at her list of questions. 'The stutter could not be from nervousness, could be talking abou hisself,' she noted on the sheet.

"N-no, li-llike I sa-said um he w-won' s-say an'th-thin', b-but I s-see um um br-bruis-ses, ne-new ones-s ev'r' um w-w'k. Hhe um um tr-tries-s to h-hide 'em um b-but I se-see," his voice at first high pitched then had gone quiet as if he was revealing some terrible ailment, like elderly people often do.

"Are you sure that they are not caused by normal sibling activities? Boys can rough house," she was pleased with her thinking fast on her feet.

"I no-not-t ta-talkin' 'b-bout k-kids! H-he's tw- tw-twen'y y-years-s ol-l' an' he um um sh-shouldn'n h-have s-so m-many bl-black-k ey-eyes or um b-bust'd l-lips-s. Hi-hhis br-broth'r um um h-hates-s 'im," his voice was angry and sad at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I just have to verify that our help is what is needed. So he lives with his brother?" Annie was embarrassed at her flub but tried to make up for it.

"Y-yeah at um um ho-home w-wi' th-their par-par-parents-s," he calmed down though the sadness was still there.

"Do they know about this? The parents, do they see the abuse?" she was quickly scribbling down notes.

"N-no, um um he hi-hides-s it-it fr-from 'em," his voice cracked. "L-look, um w-wha' ca-can I um um d-do?"

"Can you get him to call? Is he with you now? I would really like to talk --" she continued as she looked at the list of suggestions in front of her.

"N-no! He's-s af-fr-frai' his um u br-broth'r w-will fin' out-t, um um an' h-he's-s g-go'na b-be pi-piss'd I ca-call'd. I j-jus' w-wan' to h-help 'im," he said fiercely, then after a pause he added in a more quiet tone, "He-he's-s ash-sham'd he um um ca-can'na do an'thin' 'bout-t it-it. He th-thin's th-this ki-kin'na um um thin' o-only h-hap'ns-s to-to um um w-weak an' h-helples-s, wo-women an' ch-chil'rn, n-not-t um g-guys."

"Sir, this is not something that happens to just one type of people, anyone can be a victim if someone else has power over them," she attempted to get through the stereotype that society had hammered into people's minds. "If I could talk to him..."

"L-look, um ah I g-got'a go-go," he sounded distracted.

"Please, just stay on the line," Annie tried one more time but she knew she was talking to dead air.

\----------------------------------------------  
Part 9, Birthdays

January 24, 2000 -- Monday

Worry is one of the most useless activities known to man and is directly related to waiting. What is waiting but the act of doing nothing in expectation of doing something? First of all nothing can be done about either, it is inevitable. It is how people deal with them that changes perspective. Some people use the time to do other things, in the name of multitasking, take their minds' off the reason for the wait, thus seeming to speed up the time passage. Others sit and wonder, ponder, worry, pray in one order or another, which can seem to slow down time. And then there are the people who do absolutely nothing. These people could care less to occupy their minds with anything but the act in and of itself, they have achieved the higher level of existence which allows them to wait without the worry or anticipation of the upcoming event. 

Dean happens to be in the part of all groups. First, he tries to do other things to occupy his mind. Second, he worries and wonders what exactly will happen. Third, when it all comes down to it, he knows what is coming and can do nothing to stop it, so he blanks his thoughts and waits. Unfortunately, Dean has a good reason to worry today, for today was his birthday.

Birthdays are supposed to be a day of celebration for the one having it and the ones contributing to it. Cakes, cards, drinks, stories of the years past, hopes for the future, none of which Dean will have on his day. No, on his day he could look forward to pain. Sam had taken to "celebrating" Dean's birthdays with a whipping. He had perverted the innocent tradition into his own twisted pleasure. Dean wished Sam would just forget about it like he made their parents forget but he had more than one scar to show for his birthdays.

Dean sat cowering in the back of his closet waiting. It was close to five and Sam would be home soon. All Dean ever did these days was wait. Wait for the pain, wait for the nightmares to consume him, wait for punishments for imagined offenses, wait for Sam. 

Most of the time John and Mary ignored Dean, not of their own choosing, but from the suggestions of Sam. They did not see him even though he was in the same room. When they did interact with him it was polite, shallow, always in a rush, like they had something more important to do. It left Dean with a hollow feeling, he knew it was Sam but it hurt him none the less. He should be used to it by now, the years of neglect compounding the pain.

After Sam ruined his escape plans a year and a half ago, Dean wondered aimlessly around the house. Sam had put more restrictions on his actions, where he could go, who he could see. Dean was cut off from the few friends he had and he was not to leave the house except for going to work. Last March Sam had declared that Dean had a job down at Alton's Garage and Body Shop, Monday through Friday, eight to three. Dean had to leave the house at 7:30 am and be home at 3:30 pm, no exceptions. Sam was always there to check and the one time Dean was late he was punished for it, he had a crooked thumb as a reminder. 

So now Dean waited. He had gotten home at 3:29 pm, just in time for the phone to ring. It was one of the only times that Dean was allowed to use the phone. If Sam was not home at 3:30, then Sam would call and request to talk to Dean if Dean did not answer. Today was no exception.

"Hel-hell-hello," Dean said into the receiver.

"Good boy, Dean. Right on time," came a lilting voice. "You are such a good boy, that I am going to do something very special for your birthday."

Dean cringed at those words. Nothing Sam did was special, it was all painful. But he responded as expected.

"Th-thank-k y-you Sa-sam-m." Tears trailed down his face as he tried to stop his shaking.

"That's my boy," Sam's voice dripped lust. "Now get cleaned up and be waiting."

"Y-yes-s um Sa-sam-m," Dean barely choked out before he heard the click. He stood there staring at the phone wishing Sam would just forget this one time. With a heavy sigh, Dean hung up the phone, angrily wiped the tears from his face, and did as instructed.

"Where is my birthday boy?" 

Dean jumped when he heard the yell. He scrambled to get down the stairs before his brother got mad thinking that he was hiding. Dean found Sam in the kitchen sitting at the table. 

"H-hey Sa-sam-m," he hesitantly greeted his younger brother.

Sam smiled as he got up and approached his older brother. 

"Happy Birthday Dean," he said with a glint in his eye. He then reached up and cradled Dean's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. He pulled back placing his hands on Dean's shoulders. "So you are 21 today. You know what that means."

Dean fought to control his fears, but he had no idea what his brother was getting at. So he stood and shook his head.

"Dean, you are of legal drinking age! You get to go buy beer!" Sam said with delight even though Sam had been doing it for years, making the shopkeepers see what he wanted to see. They left the house and bought a 30 pack.  
Back at the house they drank the beer in the living room while Sam talked about his day. Dean had one to Sam's three. Things were different, not at all like his other birthdays. Dean was relieved for the most part, Sam had not gotten out the belt, yet. When Dean was sure that Sam was good and drunk he tried to get away, thinking that Sam would pass out soon. He got up with the pretext of putting the rest of the 30 pack in the fridge.

"Where da ya think yur goin'?" Sam slurred after Dean grabbing his leg.

"I wa-was-s um um pu-ttin' th-thess-ss um aw-way," Dean answered hoping Sam would take him at his word.

"Why d' hell would ya wan' t' do that?" Sam demanded, though he had about twelve he was not as inebriated as Dean had hoped. "Did I tell you to put them away?" his voice was getting dark and even.

"N-no," despite his best efforts Dean was trembling. 'please just pass out,' he pleaded silently.

"Then bring 'em back," Sam ordered and when Dean got close he grabbed his arm and painfully jerked him down to his knees. Sam then slapped him hard, hard enough to cause Dean to lose balance.

"You do nothing without my permission," Sam said and slapped him again, this time it split Dean's lip. Sam grabbed Dean’s hair then kissed him forcefully, causing his lip to tear more. The blood was coppery in Dean’s mouth and his lip hurt, he whimpered into Sam's kiss.

"Take off your clothes," Sam ordered when he released Dean. Dean wanted to protest but he knew better. Slowly he complied until he stood naked in front of his younger brother. 

"Yes," Sam whispered then took Dean's dick in his hand and started to stroke. Dean wished for the billionth time that he would just disappear. His body responded and then Sam did something he never did before.

Standing shock still he watched as Sam sucked him. He did not know what to do. Before he could register what he was feeling Sam stood, shoved Dean face down on the couch, and raped him. It was brutal and painful but luckily it was over fast. Sam came quickly, biting Dean on the shoulder barely missing the place that had almost healed from the last time. Sam pulled out then sat on the floor and grabbed another beer. 

"Damn Dean, you are one fine piece of ass," Sam chuckled drinking in celebration. "Happy fucking Birthday big brother."

\--------------------------------------------------------


	4. Listen, Punished, New Year's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean calls for help again. Dean is punished for not cooperating, and Sam rings in the New Year with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuttering it hard to write as it is to read. I do not stutter but I understand the frustration of not being able to get your words out and have people be patient and understand. This in no way represents all types of stuttering, just one I have had experience with.
> 
> Also, things get graphic, same as before.

Part 10 - Listen 

May 29, 2000 -- Monday

"Friends for Life Help Center, I'm Annie, you can talk to me," Annie answered the phone.

"Hhh-hel-lo?" an almost forgotten voice spoke to her. Annie had not heard that voice in several months; she wondered what had happened to the young man and his 'friend.'

"Hello, you've called before," she greeted him hoping to keep him on the line while she signaled for a trace. She also looked to Wilma, her supervisor, indicating her to pick up on the piggyback line.

"Y-yeah, I...," he faltered, "I um um ca-call'd 'b-bout m-my um um fr-frien'."

"Yes, I remember, he was being abused by his brother and his parents didn't know or didn't care," Annie was rifling through her papers trying to find his file. She just put it on her desk when she heard his reply.

"N-no-no, um um th-they d-don' kn-now. Th-they wo-would um um ca-care if Sa-sam wo-would-d l-let 'em um um s-see," it was almost as if he were speaking to himself on the last part. But it was a slip that Annie jotted down, 'sam - abusive brother.'

"But if you can see the injuries can't the parents?" she wondered about the home life. She glanced at Wilma, who was indicating her to continue.

"I I um t-tol' y-you, um um he hi-hides-s it-it. Sa-sam ca-can ma-mmake p-people um um s-see wh-what he wa-wants-s 'em t-to um s-see," the young man was getting angry with Annie. He was breathing heavily.

"But how can he do that? I mean, there has to be something your friend can do to let his parent's know what is going on," she was fishing hoping to keep him on edge enough to slip again.

"I ca-nn... um he-he ca-can' let 'em... he um um th-thin's he-he's p-prot'ctin' 'em," he sounded so defeated.

"Does the brother also hurt the parents?" she was confused by this new information, the man had not indicated before that is was a family being terrorized.

"N-no, n-not um ou'r-right-t um um o-only wh-when Sa-sam-m th-thin's he nee-nneeds-s a l-less-sson," the young man seemed exasperated.

"If you could get him to call we could work with him, help him to get out of that situation. Maybe get the family into therapy --" Annie went on with the list.

"Sa-sam wi-will n-ne'r l-let-t um um th-that-t h-hap'n," he added forcefully, he was panting with effort to control his anger, "He um um ccon-c-con-t-trols-s ev'r-r'thin'. If-f he kn-new I um um c-call'd h-he'd p-pun-nish m-me," there was a sharp intake of breath, "Sh-shit-t! F-for-rget-t I um um s-said an'thin'. I g-got-ta go-go." The fear in that voice seemed to double and there was a sense of dread that was not there before. 

"Sir, don't hang up. No one will know you called, no one can find out, the phone number is blocked," Annie tried to keep the frightened man on the phone. She had had the suspicion that he was talking about himself and he just confirmed it. "We have safe houses, place that no one can --"

"Y-you do-don' um um un-un'nrs-stan'," the young man sobbed, "Sa-sam wi-will f-fin' out-t… he- he al-ways f-fin's out-t. Th-there's n-no um um pppl-lace I c-can g-go tha' he um um ca-can'na f-fin' m-me an' I'll b-be beat ag-gain-n." 

Annie's heart broke as the man cried, he was so scared. 

His voice dropped to a gruff whisper, "It-it h-hur's to-too m-much. I um um hhhu-hur' so-so mu-much, all ti-tt-time. Y-you ca-can'na h-help-p um um m-me, I sh-shou'na c-call'd," he hiccuped and took a ragged breath, "Y-you s-soun' so-so ni-nice...um um um y-you h-hear mm-me, An-annie," he finished softly, "n-no one el-lse um um h-hears-s m-mmme."

"Please, just stay on the line, I can help you," Annie cried but she knew he was gone again.

"Did we get the damned location?" Annie demanded.

\----------------------------------------------  
Part 11 - Punished

August 30, 2000 -- Wednesday

Sam leaned back in the recliner enjoying the feel of the rough material against his bare skin. That coupled with the warm wet mouth that was sliding over his long hard erection sent shivers down his spine. It was not the best blow job he had ever had but it was one of the ones he enjoyed the most. His older brother was naked on his knees sucking him. Reveling in the power, Sam reached down and gripped Dean by the hair, stilling him. 

"Big brother, you are not into it tonight. Let me show you want I want," Sam purred then fucked Dean's mouth with a brutal delight. When he came, Sam watched as Dean swallowed. 

"Yeah, big brother, drink it all." Laughing he shoved Dean away, got up and went into the kitchen.

"Dean, you are such a pathetic loser," Sam laughed when he returned drinking a beer seeing his older brother huddled against the couch were Sam had pushed him. Flopping down onto the couch, Sam picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. Flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch, Sam noted that Dean was waiting for him to tell him what to do. Sam was pleased and disgusted with that.

'Such the obedient brother.' 

"Get up here," he ordered patting the place beside him. Sam watched as his Dean slowly got up and sit on the edge of the seat. Sam pulled him back.

"Lean back, it is your turn." Sam smiled when Dean looked at him in confusion sitting stiffly beside him. Sam elbowed him all the way back against the couch and wrapped his long fingers around Dean's limp dick. He chuckled when Dead hissed at his tight grip.

"I want you to scream for me," Sam said as he started to stroke his brother. Like Pavlov's Dog, Dean responded to the stimulation with the expected result. But unlike the past where Sam would toy with him for a bit then rape him, Sam continued with the hand job. Dean let another hiss of pain escape while he tried to comprehend what his younger brother was doing.

"You are going to come when I say. Now, get into it, relax and work with me," Sam demanded. 

Unfortunately, Dean did not think that he could do what Sam wanted. He could not relax in anyway in order even think about working with Sam, he had never ejaculated, let alone had an orgasm. He had never jerked off before, not wanting to have anything to do with sex because of Sam. To Dean sexual activities of any kind were not pleasurable experiences, they were punishments. 

"Damn it, Dean, I can't do this all night," Sam complained, "I want you to spill and do it quickly." Sam was jerking Dean's dick so hard that the poor excuse for an erection faded causing Sam to stop. 

"You are doing this on purpose," Sam's voice got low and even.

'Shit, what can I do? I don't know how...' Dean was thinking frantically as sweat poured off is body.

“S-ssorr-y I -”

"You’re a bad boy, Dean."

***********************  
Hours later Sam awoke thirsty and in pain. "Damn it," he cursed examining his hands in the bathroom, then went to check on his brother. He found Dean in his bed lying on his back. Sam watched his brother sleep, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest with shallow breaths. Careful so as not to disturb him, Sam slipped the covers from Dean's naked body. He observed the marks he put there and frowned. 

'Crap those are ugly.' 

Sam did not like what he had done, although he had to discipline Dean. Both eyes were swollen shut, nose was broken, both lips were split in two places and swollen, several ribs were cracked or fractured, bruises up and down both sides, left knee looked dislocated, and the ankle was swollen, sprained if not broken. 

‘Damn it, where does one bruise end and the next begin?' 

Sam had lost control and went too far this time. Now he was going to have to back off until Dean healed a bit. 

"It's all your fault, I try to do something nice," he whispered to his older brother. Sam absently rubbed his bruised and split knuckles. "Shit Dean, if you loved me you would have done what I said," Sam shead tears, not for Dean but for himself. 

"Why don't you love me? Just let me in so I can see. You are the only one who won’t let..." he let the words die on his lips. Sam’s concerned look slid from his face and turned hard.

"Fuck you," he said then left the room leaving his brother uncovered.

\---------------------------------------------  
Control  
Part 12, New Year's

December 31, 2000 -- Sunday - January 1, 2001 -- Monday

The end of the millennium had found Dean in his bed trying to find a comfortable position for sleep. His whole body hurt from the punishments he had endured in the last few days. For no apparent reason, Sam had been in a bad mood and was taking it out on Dean, but then again Sam always took everything out on Dean. The last had been the Water Test that had Dean holding onto tin cups while Sam poured in boiling water. It burned his hands but he did not let go. Dean's hands were blistered and raw but he did not complain even though that was what Sam wanted. Lying on his back, Dean cradled his hands to his chest and tried to fall asleep. Nothing he did helped him get away from the fear or the pain. 

'I have to get out of here, I have to get away.’ 

The same words floated through his mind and the same answers came with them.

'But mom and dad, they have no idea what Sam can do.' 

Tears flooded his eyes but he refused to let them fall. 

'I just want to sleep, please let me sleep.' 

He pleaded with his mind for release, Dean knew Sam would be out for the rest of the night and most probably the day. Sam had a big party to go to. Rolling onto his side with his back to the wall, Dean started to recite the periodic table. After that did not work, Dean started calculating to the twentieth digit the value of pi. Finally, he started to drift off.

\------------------------------  
Dean was jerked awake by Sam in the early morning hours. He felt his arm nearly pulled from it's socket as Sam moved him to the center of his bed and start to kiss him. 

"N-nn-o!" 

Dean could not take it any more, he had to make it stop. He constantly hurt and was always on edge, he never could relax. He got a backhand to his face and a punch to the gut for his efforts. Gasping for air, Dean could smell the alcohol on Sam breath.

"Happy New Year, big brother," Sam slurred into his ear then planted a rough kiss on Dean's mouth. He whimpered in pain when Sam bit his lip causing it to bleed. Dean pushed against his younger brother hoping he was drunk enough to roll with it.

"Damn it," Sam hissed then slapped Dean, "Are you fighting me?" he had disbelief in his voice.

 

"S-st-top-stop-p!" Dean fiercely pleaded as he felt his hands being pulled to the edges of the bed. "Th-this-s is-iss n-nno-t-t um um r-rr-right-t!" he was trying to get Sam to listen to him. Oh how he hated his stutter. Dean's chest and shoulders were pinned to the bed along with his arms and legs by Sam's powers. 

"Not right? It is right because I say it’s right. You stupid bitch. Like I give a shit about anything else," Sam growled punching Dean in the gut again. Sam laughed, even thoroughly inebriated he still was in control. 

"Gonna fuck you good," Sam purred then reached down to shove his finger into Dean. 

Dean bit back a cry of pain as Sam finger fucked him. He was not going to give Sam the satisfaction, he was going to stop this one day. So he endured, as always, silently the painful abuse. 

Sam was up to three when he pulled out, "Now you're ready," he said with lust in his voice. Spreading Dean's legs as far as they would go, pushing his knees to Dean’s shoulders, Sam grabbed hold of Dean's hips and entered, laughing when Dean did scream out in agony this time. 

"You love it, big brother," Sam always emphasised the last part because of the irony of it all. He was the one in control and was now a couple of inches taller. He was enjoying the look of pain and hopelessness on Dean's face while he raped him. 

Dean wanted to look away, but Sam did not want him hiding in any form. So he was forced to look into those hateful eyes enjoying the terror and pain he was feeling. Tears filled his eyes and left salty trails down the sides of his face into his hairline. He screamed when Sam hit that tender spot and pounded it harshly. Dean wished just once someone would hear him and save him, however he was so ashamed of his weakness and helplessness that he was almost glad no one did. Sam saw to it that any noises that Dean made were registered as background sounds to everyone. It took a few tries, but Sam had John and Mary believing that every sound that Dean uttered was white noise or silence depending on the circumstances. And unless people spoke directly to him, Dean was unheard. So he could talk and yell and scream until he was blue in the face, no one paid any attention to Dean. 

Sam came with a harsh gasp and collapsed causing Dean's breath to be labored under his taller brother's weight. Dean concentrated on just that for the longest time waiting for Sam to move. It had been so long that his legs started to cramp and his back to spasm painfully. When Dean heard the soft snores of his brother he was able to move again, carefully he shifted his aching limbs then pushed Sam off and out of him.

Sam moaned and turned back towards Dean, curling around his brother as if snuggling. Dean tried to push him away but Sam held on. Nuzzling in close, Sam murmured into Dean's ear that caused Dean to hurt in a different way.

"Why don't you love me? I need you, Dean. I'm so alone." 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	5. Escape Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finds Dean applying for colleges and things do not end well.

July 29, 1998 -- Wednesday

Dean sat at his desk in his room staring out the window at his neighbours across the street. Six year old Emily was trying her best to keep her two year old little sister entertained in the front yard while their mother unloaded groceries from the back of the van. Dean smiled as Carrie got away from her big sister hitting the huge mud puddle at full speed. Emily was yelling at Carrie but he could tell that it was all good natured when she jumped into the water. 

Turning back to the task at hand, Dean looked at the paperwork for the three colleges he had picked out. He had procrastinated all summer though he had the forms filled out he still needed references and essays. Dean should have been paying less attention to the world outside and more to his world inside because he did not hear his younger brother come into his room.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked in a sing-song voice. He enjoyed the jump he caused his inattentive brother. Dean spun around to face him, eyes wide, breath quickening. Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, a condescending smile on his face.

"I was fillin' out c-college ap-ap-app-llication f-forms," Dean stuttered, he had started to sweat like he had been caught doing something wrong. He smoothed his facial features and clasped his hands together hoping that Sam would not see them shaking.

Still in that sing-sony voice Sam inquired, "Why would you be doing that, Dean?" his head tilted to the right, eyebrows raised. He was playing Dean, making him squirm.

Dean swallowed trying to steady himself, but his mouth was dry causing his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. He hated talking especially around Sam, he always made it hard for Dean to concentrate. 

"I h-hh-have to-to um ap-ap-apply to-to see which one to-to um go to-to." Dean was struggling with the words. He could see from the look on his brother's face that he was going to get punished although he did not know what he did wrong this time. Sam had taken to punishing him more frequently in the past year.

"Oh, I don't think so Dean," Sam's voice was low, all mirth was wiped from his features. He dropped his hand from Dean's shoulder and picked up the applications. Sam flipped through the forms reading aloud the names.

“Northwestern, MIT, Stanford... hmm, all out of state." Sam knitted his brows and held his older brother in a hard stare. "You can’t go to any of these schools, you will be too far away. Are you trying to leave the family? Are you trying to get away from me?"

"No-no Sam-m," Dean answered quickly, his eyes wide in fright again, "I’m no-no-not lev'n-n' the fam-fam-um um fam’ly." He was visibly shaking now, his stutter worse under Sam's scrutiny.

"But you are applying for colleges not in Kansas, now what else would that be telling me? Hmm, Dean?" Sam pushed making Dean speak more. 

"I’m ju-ju-just go-go to-to c-cc-c um um coll-llege li-li-like M-mm-m-oo-o-m-m and Da-da-dad um um wa-wa-want," Dean was almost pleading, he knew the direction this conversation was going but was powerless to stop it.

"No, Dean, they do not want that. In fact they know that you barely passed your equivalency to get your GED, so they know you do not have the brains for college. These," Sam said with distaste indicating the papers, "are worthless." He dropped them one by one onto the floor.

Tears sprung to his eyes as Dean watched helplessly the plans for his escape hit the floor and turn to dust. He knew that Sam planted the information in their parents' minds because that is what Sam does best. And even though their parents attended the ceremony, they would not remember that Dean had graduated with honors this past May and was awarded two scholarships. If Dean were to look now he would find all of his grades changed, the diploma now a GED, and the scholarships gone. 

"Wh- why?" he breathed unable to do anything else, staring at the useless applications on the floor.

Sam slammed Dean up against the desk, leaning heavily on his chest. "Because I say so that's why. You have no right to question me, I hold all the cards, I am the one who says what you do and when you do it," Sam's eyes were flashing with hate as he spit out the words. "Fuck Dean, you have been trying to get away from me from the very beginning. Always running off with your friends, leaving me behind. You have never wanted to be around me. You don't love me."

"N-n--" Dean attempted to protest but his air was being constricted, the desk biting into his back. Plus Sam would not give him the time to get the words out.

"Don't you contradict me, damn it! I see it in your fucking eyes every damn day," Sam pulled back letting Dean breathe again. He jabbed Dean in the shoulder to emphasize each statement, "If you would let me in, I could see the truth. But no! You are blocking me, damn it! Shit, the only reason you are here is because I make you stay. And you know what?" malice colored his words, "I don't care. You are mine to do with what I please." Sam straightened and crossed his arms.

"N-no Sa-sa- um um um Samm-m," Dean panted to get the words out, cringing as far from Sam as he could in the chair, "I l--"

"You are a bad boy, Dean," Sam cut him off, voice hard, brows furrowed, "You've broken the rules."

Everything Dean had endured over the years had been increasingly harsh and humiliating but he could deal with a bit of physical and emotional pain knowing that his parents were safe and one day he would be shed of his younger brother when he left for college. Ten years of punishments causing ten years of pain leading to ten years of planning resulting in ten years of hope. In the course of five minutes Sam had taken all that away with the destruction of his academic career. Dean was still trapped. 

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End file.
